Portum Clavem
by PoeticallyCryptic
Summary: "You don't turn to the back of the book to read how the story ends. You start from the beginning and experience how it unfolds." An ancient concept, long forgotten, makes life a little difficult for an ordinary girl caught in an extraordinary world. VergilxOC
1. Chapter 1

**So, I had this idea for a story running around in my head for a while and I've been typing it and changing it here and there as a go. It's sort of an experiment; we'll see how everyone likes it. :)**

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**Chapter One**

The desecrated library smelled like stale air and a peculiar scent that could only be described as decaying papyrus. The tall bookshelves lined the walls like a phalanx, looming ominously over the sole occupant. A beam of sunlight fought through the din, illuminating the left corner of the large atrium in its glow. Specks of dust floated peacefully in the warm rays, and it provided a soothing balm to Michelle's racing heart.

The library carried an aura that radiated danger – and not the typical violent, gory, fatal kind. Instead, the knowledge encased in the many tomes scattered about brought a danger of awareness; those who read and understood what was contained within each leather-bound piece of history would no longer be engulfed in Ignorance's blanket of protection.

It was almost enough to deter Michelle away, but not enough to force her to flee. It was difficult to decide which was worse. Her decision to visit the ancient library on the corner of town was to fight that ignorance. Many denizens of the inner city had witnessed demonic activity at some point in their life; it almost seemed like devils flocked to the grotesque architecture that the edifices presented. However, facing the reality proved too difficult for most people, and instead of choosing to arm themselves with the knowledge to defend each other, they chose to deny the very existence of the creatures that they heard stories of, hiding underneath their beds.

Michelle was not quite so foolish.

She dropped her bag down on one of the many tables, staring at it doubtfully when the table creaked under the weight. After ensuring that it wouldn't collapse, Michelle surveyed the large room around her, wondering where to begin.

The building had been left unoccupied for some time, so electricity and heating were no longer present. The chilly autumn air breezed through the windows whose glass was broken from weathering and teenagers who thought it fun and entertaining to toss rocks and cause a ruckus. It had been years since the library had a caretaker, and while the room caused unease in Michelle, she would rather not have an audience; solidarity suited her just fine. She much preferred the tranquility of an abandoned library, than one filled with people researching beside her. While not much of a loner, she would often choose 'quiet' over 'company.'

"I better get to work before the sun goes down," she reminded. She had packed a flashlight for when that happened, but seeing the room for the first time didn't give her the courage to stay after dark. "Now where to begin…?"

The absence of a card catalogue did less to deter Michelle than she initially thought it would. Due to its age and lack of care, the books and journals were scattered everywhere, rendering the use of a card catalogue pointless. And while searching on a computer might give her the answers she desired, she didn't want to chance the government filtering any of the facts.

_I suppose it's better to just go through the books one-by-one_.

Not bothering to grab a chair, Michelle pulled over an adjacent table that looked sturdier than the others and started piling books on it. She grabbed what looked the most interesting, planning on reading those more thoroughly once she returned home. At that moment, however, she was attempting to trace the demonic presence back to its roots. Anything and everything about the origins of demons – fact or fiction – was laid about the table in a specific pile. The hardest part of her research was sorting through what was real and what was not; she had no basis on what was 'normal' in the demonic sense.

Michelle had never seen a demon or witnessed a demon attack. She heard countless news reels about bodies found and mutilated, but it was difficult to discern if it was the cause of demons, or simply the result of a deranged human with strange fetishes. Michelle didn't doubt that there were humans more demonic than some of the devils wandering the streets. Many of the pages she scanned seemed to hint at humans willingly giving their souls for demonic power, anyway. She wasn't surprised.

Unfortunately, finding where demonic history started was rather difficult, if not impossible. Theories jumped out at her from every angle, almost every one of them contradicting something of the others. No one seemed to know when the demons arrived or where they originated. It was all painfully unhelpful. Michelle expected as much: humans only had so much knowledge at their disposal. The reality is that only a demon would know when and where demons began.

She impatiently threw down more books with various subjects onto the table. Certain titles and chapters rushed out at her - Sacrifices, Demonic Auras and Their Counterparts, Species and Subspecies, Rituals and Adornments. Some of them stood out to her more than the others, yet none were helpful in tracing anything backwards. It seemed that most of the books only wanted to go forward through demonic history.

An uncertain creak kept Michelle from rustling through anymore as the table underneath succumbed to the weight of knowledge. The sound echoed throughout the room. Michelle closed her eyes and held her breath until the last of it drained out the windows. She glanced at the mess at her feet balefully, wondering whether it was worth the trouble to drag another table over. It might just collapse like the one at her feet.

"You make quite a racket." Michelle held in a yelp of surprise and turned to face the owner of the voice that shaved four years off her life. The man held himself regally, donning a blue trench coat and dark pants. His hair, with its strange lackluster shade, was combed back from his eyes. In his right hand he held a sword, whose sheath appeared masterfully crafted. His face was carefully hidden in the shadows of the room.

Michelle knew nothing about swords, swordsman, or swordsmanship, but the stranger carried a threat about him that had her wanting to run. At the same time, his dispassionate glare forced her to stay still. It was difficult to discern whether the intruder meant her any harm or not, and that was the cause of her worry.

"I'm so sorry," she said in a rush, "I thought I was the only one here."

"Clearly," he drawled. He surveyed the disarray caused by her perusal of the books and raised an ashen eyebrow. Michelle, however, was scanning the room for a possible entry point that the man might have come through. To her knowledge – and she admitted that it was limited – the library only had one entrance. It was quite possible that a back door existed, but she didn't hear it open, which could only mean that the man was present in the library before she arrived.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Michelle apologized again, "I was only researching some things." If luck was on her side, the man would yield to her apology and let her continue. She didn't think the library was owned by anyone.

"This library caters to a specific area of study," the man said. His voice was cool, almost indifferent. Despite that, it seemed like he was more curious about her presence than annoyed, and while his gaze wasn't friendly, the threat that was previously present seemed to have taken a backseat.

Michelle nodded, "I know."

"Strange reading material for a girl your age," he remarked. It was at that moment when he chose to take a step forward out of the shadows. Now that she could see his features clearly, he was much more handsome than she initially thought. His hair had misled her to believe that he was older, but his youthful appearance struck her speechless. "There are only a few reasons why someone would desire to research demons…"

"I'm curious," Michelle breathed, "most people in the city deny their existence, but there has to be more to it. The mayor and other affiliates cover up the demonic presence, and while I'm sure it's to protect the citizens, I don't believe that ignorance is protection of any kind." She didn't know where the desire to explain herself to this stranger came from. His stare had her feeling like dislodging any and all secrets; his eyes tore the truth out of her better than any other interrogation technique.

To her horror, she began to ramble, "People always say that demons aren't real – that they're just bedtime stories to make children behave or something like that. Everyone heard stories of the monster in the closet or the demon under the bed, even the things that go bump in the night, but humans aren't that creative usually, right? Every story has some semblance of truth to it, like legends or mythology. People witness these things and then make their own assumptions, so it's safe to say that what goes bump in the night could have been something very real, which people turned into a story as an excuse to deny its existence.

"For some reason, the idea of ignorance is better for people than acknowledging that there _are_ things out there that can easily kill them. It's like a child's idea of hiding under the covers; when they do that, the monsters, no matter how strong, cannot penetrate the down protection that feathers and cotton provide, which makes no sense, actually. But that's how a child's mind works –"

"Enough." His one word, spoken with such a steel authority, made Michelle close her mouth immediately. While the word was harsh, however, his features didn't seem annoyed or irritated. Instead he looked more tired than anything else, and Michelle resisted the impulse to ask if he was okay. His ice blue eyes caught her hazel ones again and his lips thinned in a straight line of displeasure. "Leave."

Her jaw dropped, "Why?"

"This is no place for a child."

"You don't look much older than me, you know?" Michelle spat, "and do you own this library? I doubt it. I apologize for interrupting whatever you were doing and I will try to keep it quiet, but I promise no more than that. I will continue to come back until I find… whatever it is I'm looking for." She saw his fingers tighten around the sheath of his sword.

The ten feet of space between Michelle and the man seemed to stretch for miles previously, but with the man's startling irritation, that space seemed to suffocate her. His stature seemed larger than life in that moment, demanding respect where Michelle had given him none. And while he appeared tired and haggard, his strength was impossible to mistake. If he chose to attack her in that moment, Michelle would not have been able to defend.

"You know not of what you're dabbling in, girl." Those were his last words before he turned and disappeared back into the shadows that he appeared from. Michelle stood uncertainly in the same spot for a few minutes, wondering whether she imagined the confrontation or not. She didn't hear a door close, or even footsteps walking away, so the idea of a hallucination seemed like a plausible excuse. Boy, the man was quieter than a mouse.

Now uncomfortable with her hidden audience, she hastened to gather her things. He didn't frighten her as much as his initial appearance did, but there was still a lingering sensation that she should leave, which had nothing to do with his mood. Glancing around, she realized that it would be useless to 'check-out' a book with no librarian, so she simply stuffed a few of the journals into her pack before shouldering it. Sending a hesitant look back at the corner that the regal stranger appeared in, she fled the building with an urgency that wasn't present beforehand.

Her walk home was less than comfortable. She saw shapes in every shadow and heard noises in every corner. Her mind was plagued with the inevitable, and with each step closer to her apartment, the unease grew. The city had never looked as foreboding as that night and the darkness weighed heavily down on her heart. The sun had yet to completely disappear beyond the horizon, but the orange glow cast over the buildings only served to make Michelle queasy.

She had walked down the current road many times in her life, yet none of those times carried the danger that this one did. The chilly air forced its way down her lungs, freezing her bronchi and making it difficult to breathe. She grasped her sweater closer to her form, trying to keep any heat from escaping, yet the chill seemed to reach her bones in a way that was anything but normal.

A silence drifted over the roads and alleyways as a dense autumn fog covered the area like a blanket. Michelle was torn between staying quiet or saying something to break the silence, but the last thing she wanted was to be seen talking to herself. It didn't seem like such an issue, though, because there didn't appear to be any semblance of humanity around. No one was outside their apartments and only a few lights were on in the large apartment complexes.

And just when she had begun to calm down, something crashed through the back wall of the alley, leaping into her path with a painful screech. Michelle swore her ears started to bleed. She stared at the thing in horror, its grotesque skin appearing to molt as it raised its nose in the air to sniff. Its eyes, a horrid red, scanned the emptiness of the night, searching for something she couldn't quite see. Claws – or were they talons? – covered the tips of its long, scaly fingers. Its hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched in a manner so deliriously human that it made Michelle nauseous.

All of those things combined couldn't beat the smell, however. Michelle was certain that rotting corpses smelled better than whatever the creature was giving off. Her hand covered her nose and mouth in an attempt to block out the fetid odor, but it penetrated all angles of the alleyway. She tried very hard to contain her sound of displeasure, but a groan of disgust managed to fight its way through her closed lips. This being was clearly a demon, and it had finally noticed her. It gave a shriek of acknowledgement, showing its razor-teeth at her.

"**_Portum Clavem_**_!_" it screeched at her, among many other unintelligible words.

Michelle liked to believe she was an intelligent woman, and in that moment, the intelligent thing to do was run for her life. So, without much prompting, that's exactly what she did. And the demon, in all its glory, gave chase.

Some people say that the adrenaline rush from such circumstances gives humans the ability to do many inhuman things; lift extremely large objects, jump long distances, run for a longer duration of time…

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Michelle. In the wake of her adrenaline, her panic also arose, so instead of doing all of these fantastical things which would increase her chances of surviving, the panic – powered by her adrenaline – made her a running disaster. She stumbled over the shoulder of the sidewalk, crashing into two trash cans. She got to her feet as quickly as possible, tripping and sliding slightly in her panic and bolted down the block.

She needed to find a place to hide, but would the demon be able to track her down? Was the demon looking for her specifically, or was she just in an unfortunate place at the wrong time? Was this what she got for researching anything demonic? Was this what that man meant in the library?

Her sprint turned into a stumble as her foot fell into a pothole. She tripped and fell forward onto the asphalt of the freshly oiled pavement. The large and swift footsteps of the demon behind her were easy to hear and she wondered if screaming for help would do any good at all. Screams and yells were commonplace in the city, and there was a good chance that many people would ignore it, so she got to her feet and continued to run in hopes of reaching a decently populated area. The only issue with that plan was that people had taken to setting self-enabled curfews. Very few people wanted to roam the streets of the inner city after dark, understandably. And while Michelle was one of these people, she had initially believed that she was safe within the sun's setting glow.

"Someone help me!" The words crawled their way out of her throat in a plea of desperation. She hadn't meant to release them in such a strangled cry, but the panic running through her system couldn't translate the words in any relative calm. As she figured, either no one heard her cry for help or no one cared.

Well, that's what she thought.

Gunshots rang out of the night in a flurry of pinpoint accuracy. The bullets hit their target with deadly efficiency; not a single one missed its mark. It was both a relief and an onset of new unease, because if this new person wished to harm Michelle in the demon's place, she would have no hope of outrunning them. At least the demon didn't carry a gun.

Turning toward the new stranger, Michelle found herself surprised to be facing a pair of heterochromatic eyes that accessed her with curiosity. She also wasn't expecting to face a woman. Nonetheless, she was Michelle's savior.

"Thank you," Michelle said. Her heartbeat was erratic from her dash through the inner city and she raised a hand to her chest in an attempt to calm it down. The dark-haired woman stared at Michelle for a moment before holstering her weapons and crossing her arms. For a person who seemed to hunt demons for a living – Michelle was only guessing – the woman didn't seem to be dressed appropriately for the job, her chest almost falling out of her suited top.

"Do you live here?" the woman asked, "or are you a traveler?"

"I live here." The woman shook her head with an incredulous half-smile on her face.

"Then you should know better than to walk the streets at this time of night. Go home." The woman began walking away, repositioning the large missile launcher on her back.

_How did I miss that?_

"I can't go home," Michelle blurted. If her hunch was correct, that demon had targeted her specifically. She didn't understand what it had called her, or what that might have entailed, but the reality was that her home wasn't safe. The safety blanket that her apartment had created was effectively ruined.

"Why?"

"That demon seemed to be chasing me down with a purpose. I don't know too much about demons, but if that's true, then my apartment isn't the safest place," she explained. The woman only looked more intrigued.

"This is a low-class demon. They survive on instinct, not intellect. Are you suggesting that it was waiting for you to come home?" Her disbelief caused Michelle some anxiety.

"Why would I lie?" Michelle pleaded, "I don't know if it was waiting for me, but I think it was following me. I can't go back there. _Please._"

The cool autumn breeze rushed through the street as the street lamps flickered. Michelle began to feel the chill of late October seep into her bones and she was certain that she began to tremble. Whether the woman could discern that it was from the cold or fear, she didn't know.

"What's your name?"

"Michelle."

"Michelle, huh? My name is Lady. I think I may know of a place you can stay for the night. I can't guarantee that it's the best living arrangements, but it's honestly the safest place I can think to leave you. The owner owes me a few favors, so he won't complain… much."

Michelle expressed her gratitude again and followed Lady down the street, trusting her to get her there safely. It wasn't in Michelle's right mind to rely on people for things she believed she could control, but her first encounter with a demon left her clinging to the nearest support. She was hoping – praying, if she believed in such a thing anymore – that tomorrow she would be back to her normal self.

"It wasn't my intention to cause so much trouble, honestly," Michelle remarked. Lady looked surprised by the remission.

"I wouldn't call it trouble. There's a reason I'm in the business: to protect people like you who haven't dealt with demons before. I definitely wouldn't call it an inconvenience; if demons cared about things like that, they wouldn't attack anyone." Lady smiled slightly, gripping the strap to her launcher. She noticed Michelle shooting glances at it. "It must look like a bit of overkill, huh?"

Michelle smiled, "maybe a little. I don't think I've ever seen someone tote around a missile launcher. Is that really necessary to kill some demons?"

"I've hunted demons for a while. I'm not really going to go into my reasons, other than I think most of them deserve to die –"

_Most?_

"– but there are many occasions where it isn't just one or two demons attacking people. Sometimes it's a whole horde of them, crawling and mucking about in a pack. In times like those, Kalina Ann here comes in handy. There are also times where the demons are bigger than the one that attacked you. Having a little extra firepower does a world of good. A lady loves her toys." She gave a slight laugh at her word play, stopping once she turned the corner.

The first thing Michelle noticed was the large, red, neon sign hanging above a door to a building that had clearly seen better days. She couldn't judge what was inside, as her apartment building was lacking in proper elegance as well, but it looked even more derelict than hers. The words _Devil May Cry_ flashed back at her, the 'D' flickering here and there, and Michelle couldn't quite tell what she was looking at.

She gave Lady an incredulous look.

"It's pretty much a 'what you see is what you get' venue here," Lady explained. "I'm not going to sugar coat anything – the place is a pigsty, and the guy who owns it is even more so. But, despite his disgusting idiosyncrasies, it's hard to come by someone as trustworthy as he is. You'll be plenty safe with him, I promise."

Though Lady's words meant to reassure her, Michelle couldn't help but feel uncertain. The building didn't seem as seedy as the other places they had passed, but the danger permeating the walls of the surrounding area was stifling.

Lady strode up the steps with purpose, opening the door without as much as a knock. It was well past ten o'clock in the evening, and Michelle was certain the business was closed, yet that didn't hinder Lady's agenda at all. In fact, Lady ushered Michelle in before her, closing the door and sealing the room off from the harshness of the night air.

Michelle took a moment to look around, noting that the place was, as Lady had kindly put it, a pigsty. Empty pizza boxes were scattered about the room and the dust was so thick, someone could slice it with a knife. There was a musky scent in the air that smelled like mothballs or stale bread. There was a staircase to the far left that she imagined led up to the proprietor's room.

Various instruments were piled underneath the stairs – a drum set, many different types of guitars – leading Michelle to believe that the owner was something of a virtuoso, or at the very least knew how to play a tune or two. A jukebox with a refrigerator sat on the opposite side of the room with a small bar in the right corner. A door, which Michelle believed led to a bathroom, was placed behind the mahogany desk where a man clothed in dark crimson sat with his feet up top and a magazine in his hands.

His head was hidden from her gaze, and he flipped through the pages with a nonchalance that matched the interior of the room. But the most surprising of decorations was the various weapons mounting the walls, as if to mock modern-day animal hunters. Demon heads and corpses were mounted on the far wall above the counter-top of the bar. In many ways, that was exactly what this man and woman were doing, otherwise 'Demon Hunter' might not have been the appropriate title.

"Dante," Lady said, stopping in front of the idle man's desk, hands on her hips.

"Whatever it is I owe you, just put it on my tab, like you do every other time," he responded, "I don't have any money."

"That's not what I'm here for, and if you didn't waste your money so quickly, you might have some to spare." The man, Dante, scoffed.

"The reason I don't have any money is because you always find a way to take it from me, whether through debt or _payments_. I don't have anything. You know where the door is."

"Consider this payment for a chunk of the debt, then. I need you to do this." Dante finally lowered the magazine, giving Michelle a good look at his features.

She was speechless when his eyes caught hers and she was met with a familiar ice blue and silver hair. His features were identical to the man she had met earlier that day, but his mannerisms were entirely different and more laid back.

"Who's this?" Dante asked, gesturing towards Michelle.

"This is Michelle. She was attacked by a demon when I was finishing up my patrol tonight," Lady responded. Dante blinked, staring between the two. His posture hadn't changed apart from the lowering of the magazine.

"So what?"

"The demon was trailing her home before it attacked." Dante raised both eyebrows before finally dropping his magazine on the desk. He stood up, towering over Lady with a height that was intimidating. He came around the desk to lean back against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Can't say I've never heard that before," Dante remarked, but his interest was clearly piqued; if Lady was making a big deal out of something relatively commonplace, than the Devil Hunter was interested.

"It _is_ uncommon, but not unheard of. Her apartment, if it's not completely destroyed, isn't safe."

"So she needs a place to crash." Lady nodded. Dante continued, "And you think that the best place is here." Dante sized Michelle up, scanning her figure. His gaze wasn't lecherous as he looked her up and down, probably wondering why a demon singled her out for an attack. It was clear that he didn't notice anything abnormal about her.

"You'll do it, right?" Lady prompted, laying a hand on Michelle's shoulder. He sighed before grinning slightly.

"I'd never turn such a pretty face away," Dante joked. He turned to Michelle, scratching the back of his head in a way that would have seemed bashful if he didn't look so mischievous. "It's not a five-star joint, though."

"That's fine. Thank you for this, really." Michelle smiled.

"Well, look at that, a woman with manners. I was wondering whether you all went extinct," he jeered. Lady scoffed and, seeing that her work was clearly done, made her way to the door.

"Tomorrow he'll take you back to your apartment and take a look around, Michelle." Lady strode out the door, leaving Michelle alone with the illustrious Demon Hunter. As her luck would have it, she had a hard time trying to not look at him and he noticed.

"I would offer my bed to you, but uh…" He trailed off, scratching his head.

"Your room is dirtier than your foyer?" Michelle supplied. "It's fine. I wasn't planning on taking your bed, anyway. I appreciate your hospitality." He shrugged, looking completely at ease with the situation.

"Make yourself at home." He left Michelle to her thoughts as he entered the bathroom through the door behind the desk. The sound of running water permeated the stillness and Michelle moved towards the sofa and sat down.

The fact that Dante looked almost _exactly_ like the mysterious stranger that confronted Michelle in the library couldn't have been a coincidence. She remembered the stranger warning her that she had 'no idea what she was dabbling in,' and reflecting on those words, she realized that Dante and that other man were obviously connected. Perhaps they were brothers? Just because Dante was a Demon Hunter didn't mean he couldn't have family.

She laid down on the sofa with the intention of making herself more comfortable, but the results of the frightening night that she had experienced had finally set in. Her exhaustion hit her with a ferocity that she was unprepared for and her eyelids felt like lead, weighing down on her. Without proper coherency, Michelle fell into a deep sleep.

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**I want the story to have a decently slow, believable feel to it. What do you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Michelle awoke to the careful strumming of a guitar, the musician taking careful precaution not to play too loudly. It was a tune that Michelle didn't recognize, but it almost lulled her back into slumber. Her eyes slanted over and realized that Dante was the hands behind the music. She forced her eyes to open and watched him sitting on the edge of his desk, concentrated on his finger placement.

Hoping not to disturb him, she sat up on the sofa. Dante's trench coat tumbled off of her – even lecherous, he could be chivalrous, but Michelle didn't want to go too deep in to his psychiatric profile; he hunted demons for a living. That was all the incentive she needed to mind her own business.

He looked up at her, ice blue eyes intent, yet playful.

"You play very well," Michelle commented. "Are you self-taught?"

"Yeah, things get kind of boring from time to time. Played a lot when I was younger, when the business of mine was first starting out. Where does the time go?"

"I don't know whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that business has picked up for you," she joked. Dante placed his guitar on the wood floor, turning his body to fully face Michelle.

"Probably a bit of both, but what can you do?" His question was rhetorical, so Michelle sat back and watched him for a moment. He was a very handsome man, probably about five years older than her. He bore a subtle severity to him that must have come from the years in his occupation, yet he managed to retain a certain youthful air about him that others lacked, such as Lady.

Michelle liked Lady; she believed that they got along well, and while Lady had the enthusiasm to cock a smile and chuckle, she seemed wizened in a way that Dante wasn't. Lady had the look of someone who fought demons for a living; Dante had the look of someone who _hunted_ demons for a living - same profession, different sides of the spectrum. It made Michelle's head spin.

"Not that I mind you staring at me, babe – who would? – but you're staring _pretty_ hard over there." Dante's smug comment brought Michelle out of her daze. Instead of answering him with her exact thoughts, she brought up the one thing that had been on her mind since she entered _Devil May Cry._

"I'm sorry. You just look like someone I've met recently," Michelle responded.

He grinned, "Sorry, babe, I'm one of a kind. I can't have people walking around looking as handsome as I am."

"I suppose I get that, but when I say 'you look like someone,' I mean almost completely – identical, even. You wouldn't happen to have a brother, would you?" Dante stilled, all mirth and merriment disappeared from his features. In that moment, he looked like a statue, staring into the nothingness of space in front of him. Michelle began to feel uneasy and hastened to end the silence, "I think it's just me going crazy. That would be a hell of a coincidence."

"Yeah, it would," Dante muttered. "Where did you meet this look-alike?"

"I met him at the archives – the library at the edge of the city." Dante pierced her with a look.

"Not the usual dive for a girl like you."

"And what kind of girl am I then? I was only curious," she defended. "I'm not getting into anything. I _just_ got those books yesterday. I've barely read them!" Dante narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, most likely to warn Michelle of the dangers, but she beat him to it. "The other guy already gave me the warning. I'm only reading. I'm not doing anything, promise."

Michelle's words had once again caused Dante to pause in shock.

"H-He warned you?" Michelle missed his stutter of surprise.

"Rudely… sort of," Michelle elaborated, "'you know not of what you're dabbling in, girl.'"

"Yeah, that sounds like him…" Dante trailed off, "… but it can't be."

"Why not?" she asked, "Is he really your brother?" Dante didn't say anything for a moment before nodding. "Did you want to go to the library to see if he's still there? He seemed to be skulking about. He didn't look well."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he looked exhausted - even sickly," Michelle explained, "Very pale, dark purple rings underneath his eyes, shallow look to his face - very gaunt. I would say he was an inch from death, but he had enough strength to move about like a normal person."

"That doesn't sound too good." Michelle rolled her eyes slightly.

"He had the strength to mock me and appear threatening. He didn't seem like he was going to immediately topple over." She finally stood up and walked over to him, crossing her arms. "It sort of looked like... he was going through withdrawal."

The demon hunter was quiet. Michelle didn't rightly know what to make of his silence, so she prodded his shoulder earnestly.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, 'course. We'll head to the library after your apartment."

Dante and Michelle agreed to head over to her apartment to see how it fared, and if any demons had attacked the place while she was gone. Afterwards, they would head to the library. Michelle wanted to pick a few things up, and Dante had graciously offered his place to her until her apartment was either fixed or she managed to find a new one. She had to assume that his extended hospitality was for the information about his brother, whose name she learned was Vergil.

Dante wasn't too open about anything regarding his brother other than his name, but Michelle understood his need for silence. He didn't owe her anything and for his protection, at the very least, she wouldn't hoard him about it.

The two entered Michelle's apartment, immediately taking notice of a huge hole in the wall, probably from a demon crashing through from the other side. The coffee table and television were knocked over and broken; the island in the kitchen was cracked completely in half; the floor had a large hole in it, also. Luckily, she was located on the ground floor, so she didn't have to worry about disturbing the other residents of the apartment complex.

"Looks like the demon's friends figured I ran home. This is going to take weeks to fix, and my landlord is visiting her daughter for the next week, so it'll take even longer," Michelle complained, kicking a piece of wood out of her way. "And that hag has been waiting for an excuse to kick me out, I can feel it. If this isn't a good excuse, I don't know what is."

"Even if it wasn't your fault?" Dante questioned.

Michelle scoffed, "The insurance will cover the damages, but the lease is up at the end of the month and I doubt she'll allow me to renew it. She'll blame this on me, whether it was my fault or not."

"The police probably called her," Dante supplied.

"Yeah, but what the hell would they say? It's not like the other residents will give much information. I'm positive some of them _saw_ it, or heard it, crashing through the wall." She took a moment to survey her surroundings. Her bedroom door was opened. She peeked inside to see her belongings thrown about. "They've already taken a good portion of my stuff. They probably told the police it was a robbery." Dante peeked over her shoulder to find her bedroom in complete disarray. While untouched by the demon, it seemed that the humans had no qualms pilfering from a woman in need.

"Did they take everything?" Michelle opened her dresser drawers and closet. To her relief, a good portion of her clothes were still there. It seemed that only small valuables were taken, like bracelets and earrings. Thankfully, anything that mattered to Michelle was always on her person, so the loss of those items caused her less distress than having her privacy destroyed.

"I'll just pack some of these clothes. I don't really need anything else." Dante investigated the debris while Michelle packed up her things. He wasn't a detective of any degree, but he'd been in the business long enough to know when things seemed out of place. Apart from absolute destruction of the wall, he didn't notice anything in particular. There was nothing that rendered Michelle a target for demonic activity. No hexes, rituals, or spiritual adornments were found within her living space. From the look of things, she was just a normal girl who was on her way home.

He felt the remains of the demonic presence left over from its tumble through the wall, but even that was beginning to fade. He wondered why he hadn't sensed Vergil's presence on Michelle, but then again, they are brothers. Dante knew well how to mask his energy; naturally, Vergil would be able to do that as well. Admittedly, Vergil had always been better at that sort of thing. Dante wasn't really a stealthy guy; when he went to a party, he wanted every demon to know he was coming miles away. It wasn't really strategic, but he enjoyed the chase.

Dante noticed Michelle's backpack on the counter, opened. She had placed it there when she went to her room to grab her things. The clip had come undone, and the contents of the backpack slid out for the world to see. Most of the paraphernalia looked to be books. He grabbed the top one.

_The Origin of the Underworld,_ it read.

Dante, book still in hand, turned his head to gaze through the bedroom door at Michelle. He watched her fuss about and throw clothes into her duffle bag, not bothering to fold them to conserve space. He didn't fold clothes either, so he wasn't judging her – he was just trying to figure her out. She didn't seem like a threat; maybe a little too curious for her own good, but certainly not threatening. He needed to know more before he made any judgments. His taste in women aside, he thought he was a pretty good judge of character. Michelle didn't seem like the 'sell-my-soul-to-the-devil-for-ultimate-power' type.

He watched her trip over a cord sticking out from the wall. He chuckled. Definitely not that type.

"I'm all set if you're ready to go," Michelle said, coming to stand beside him. She noticed the book in his hands. "Ah, that's not helping my case, is it? I just thought, y'know, knowledge is handy." Dante shoved the book back into her pack and handed it to her, mind at ease from his conclusion of her person.

"Nothing wrong with that. Let's head to that library now." Michelle shouldered her duffle and back pack, following Dante out of the door. She didn't have to show him the way since he was well aware of the library's location. He didn't say much as they walked, instead choosing to keep his thoughts to himself. It was a far cry from his devil-may-care attitude – no pun intended. Michelle didn't know whether to break the ice or let him keep to his thoughts.

From the way he reacted to the knowledge of his brother, it seemed like he hadn't seen Vergil in a long while. In fact, Michelle would guess that he didn't even know that Vergil was alive. It seemed strange to her that he wouldn't be aware of his brother's whereabouts; his concern for Vergil seeped from his very being, so it couldn't be apathy that was the cause of his ignorance.

"What are you going to do if you find your brother there?" Michelle asked.

"Kick his ass."

She stumbled. Dante grabbed her arm before she could face plant in the asphalt. Though he didn't laugh, it was easy to recognize the amusement in his gaze. His eyes twinkled with mirth and the corner of his mouth twitched into the beginnings of a smirk.

"You haven't seen your brother in a while, it seems like. Is kicking his ass really the best greeting?" Michelle wondered, regaining her footing and following behind Dante once again. Dante smiled in a way that Michelle was starting to realize meant 'reminiscing.'

"It's basically how we communicate."

Michelle laughed, "So if you knock him unconscious, it means you missed him very much?"

The two continued on in content silence, making their way to the edge of the city. Michelle didn't really understand how she became a part of this 'adventure.' The past few hours had been a blur in her head and everything seemed to be moving a bit quicker than she had anticipated. She hoped that once Dante was reunited with his brother, things would be made clear.

Coming upon the familiar building site, Michelle walked up the stone steps with Dante in tow. Together the two opened the double doors leading into the building and stepped inside. The same sight from the day before greeted Michelle in an odd sense of nostalgia. The collapsed table was in the same place, as well as the books surrounding it.

"This is pretty much how I left it. I guess he didn't move anything around when I decided to leave," Michelle mumbled. Dante had moved ahead of her to nose around the debris. Michelle pointed to the corner where Vergil had appeared to her, "He was over there. Quiet guy; I didn't hear him come or go."

"Yeah, Vergil pulls the Houdini act often." He strode over to the corner absently, pausing and, what appeared to be sniffing the air, looking for something that Michelle couldn't fathom. Was his sense of smell really that good that he'd be able to find Vergil by scent alone? What was he, a dog?

Not knowing how to be useful, Michelle decided to pack up the remaining books that she had left behind in her more spacious duffle bag. She dropped it unceremoniously on the floor, much like her backpack and shoved the old, decaying books inside of it. It didn't matter what the subject was, but she felt infinitely better grabbing them now that Dante was with her. Previously, the building felt too ominous to take more than a few of the tomes out of it. With Dante by her side, however, she dared to challenge the Gods.

"He's still here. Or, he was. If he left, it hasn't been long since," Dante proclaimed.

"How do you know?"

"Let's just say… it's a twin thing." Several studies seemed to lean towards twins – more identical than fraternal – having the ability to sense each other. More accurately, they could sense the others emotions. Michelle, not having an identical twin of her own, wasn't sure whether to take these studies at face value or not, but she decided to give Dante the benefit of the doubt and roll with the punches.

Dante turned toward her, "Where did he go from here?"

"He didn't go anywhere," Michelle confessed. "He sort of just turned around and walked into the shadows mysteriously. For a while I thought I had imagined the entire confrontation."

"Tch, typical. Vergil always enjoyed playing the 'mysterious' card; easy ploy to get all the ladies."

"He didn't really seem like much of a 'ladies' man,' unlike you." Michelle smiled, "it's amazing how different you two are."

"I used to think that, too, when we were younger," Dante remarked, "but I think you'll find that Vergil and I are more alike than you thought." Michelle shrugged.

"What should we do?" Dante grabbed the sword, Rebellion, off his back. He held it in front of him.

"We make a door," he supplied. Without any other warning, he slashed the broadsword through the air with an ease that could only come from years of experience. It tore through the wall easily – oddly – before creating a makeshift door in the wood. Behind the wall, there was a staircase leading down into what Michelle assumed was a basement.

"Was there a lever or something? Even if it opened, I didn't hear anything. How did he get through there without me noticing anything?" Dante holstered his sword and made his way down the stairs, never answering Michelle's questions. It didn't really bother her, to be honest; she would rather find out things on her own.

The pathway leading down to the basement felt damp and desolate. The stonework was expertly crafted to withstand the building's collapse, but the walls were wet with condensation, making the steps hazardous to walk down on. Regardless, the two trekked forward, not slowing down until a small light managed to permeate its way through the darkness.

Dante slowed, taking out Ebony and Ivory with caution. He didn't know what the basement held, and it hadn't escaped his mind that he had someone behind him to protect. Those habits were difficult to break. If Michelle hadn't accompanied him, he would have waltzed into the basement with all the subtly of a stampeding bull, but the side of caution won out this time around.

The first thing they noticed was that the basement was covered from ceiling to floor in more bookshelves, though these looked to be in better condition than their counterparts upstairs. There was a desk with a candle lit in the middle of the rounded room with books scattered open upon it. Papers were piled up at the base of the table and on top of it. A small futon lay in one corner with an old blanket covering the mattress. Someone had clearly been living there for a while, and Michelle didn't doubt the possibility that it was Vergil. Dante reached the same conclusion, it seemed, and strode into the room with purpose.

A figure sat in the large chair at the desk with his hand cradling his head, rubbing his eyes and temples. Michelle recognized the same silver hair and blue trench coat from the day before. Dante's hurried reaction proved that it was, indeed, Vergil.

Vergil realized their presence later than Michelle thought, and when he raised his head to survey the two, the exhaustion and weariness could be seen easily in his gaze. He looked… weak and it didn't match the personality that he had portrayed yesterday. He straightened when he realized Dante was walking towards him and he schooled his features into the meanest glare Michelle had ever seen.

"What do you want?" The hostility in his voice was potent, but Dante refused to heed it. Vergil didn't seem surprised by their presence, just extremely annoyed. It was clear that the brothers didn't get along too well.

"Oh, just stopping by to see my dear older brother," he responded sarcastically. "You look like shit. Come on, bro." Vergil rose out of his seat slowly, threateningly, the sword from yesterday grasped tightly in his left hand. Dante noticed and reached back to grab Rebellion from its holster.

"I don't believe I called for a welcoming party," Vergil drawled. His icy gaze moved towards Michelle's form, "and I see you've brought a stray."

"Hey!" Michelle yelled, "You're the one who looks like a diseased crackhead!" In retrospect, maybe those weren't the wisest words to shout at an angry swordsman, but it seemed to shock both Dante and Vergil enough to stop their brotherly spat. Dante started laughing uproariously, clapping his hands together.

Vergil, on the other hand, looked positively murderous as he unsheathed his sword. Dante was quick to point Rebellion at him and the two brothers were caught in a stare down again. Michelle hesitated to disrupt their staring contest this time around. Even with Dante as a protector and Vergil looking as weak as he did, she didn't want to tempt whatever bad mood the elder sibling was in.

"Now, now, Verge, don't murder the messenger. If it wasn't for Michelle here getting attacked by that demon and meeting me, I might never have found you," Dante remarked. "That's good ol' Fate for you."

"All the more reason that she dies," Vergil deadpanned. Despite his words, he sheathed his sword with dignity, but he refused to sit back down. He looked at Michelle, "I suppose you refused to heed my warning. I don't give them often; you may have abused the last of my good will."

"Meeting Dante was completely coincidental. How was I supposed to know that you two were brothers?"

"So, what cha' been up to, Verge?" Dante interrupted.

"Don't call me that," he shot back. Dante flipped through the papers on the desk, ignoring Vergil's ire. Michelle came forward to stand behind Dante, feeling more comfortable with Vergil now that he wasn't threatening her life. He appeared the picture of calm. Michelle felt whiplash from his sudden change in moods.

"I did take your warning seriously," Michelle placated him. "I left almost immediately after you did."

"And yet here you are," Vergil responded. He stared down at her regally, sizing her up properly this time around in a matter very reminiscent of Dante's meeting. "A girl searches for books regarding demon origins, receives a warning, gets attacked by a demon, and manages to meet a demon hunter who happens to be the younger twin brother of the man who gave the warning."

"Coincidence," she reasoned.

"There is no such thing," Vergil stated solemnly. His eyes observed her for a moment before sliding over to Dante, who was still shuffling through his papers. A flash of annoyance crossed the elder twins face. "Dante that is quite enough. Get out."

Dante turned and leaned against the desk, refusing to budge.

"Not planning on opening any gates to Hell recently?" Vergil's glare grew harsh, volatile. Something passed between the two that Michelle didn't understand. The twins stared each other down, one murderous, the other provoking. Each waited for the other to make a move, and neither was going to draw their sword first.

Michelle thought that was very mature of them. From the way Dante had described their relationship, Michelle could have sworn that the two would be battling by that point, slashing at each other with their weapons, and generally making a bloody mess of everything. It was surprising that everything was still intact and not a single drop of blood had been spilled yet, though Michelle wasn't much of an optimist.

"You wouldn't happen to know why a low-class demon would be waiting for someone in their apartment," Michelle blurted. Vergil slowly turned his head to regard her, deciding to ignore Dante in place of a more intriguing subject.

"Why would any demon single you out?" he questioned. Michelle shrugged, looking to Dante for back up. "A demon's interest in a mere human would be little less than sacrificial, unless there is more to you than meets the eye."

Michelle shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Indeed."

Dante slammed his hand down on the table, pushing the books aside. Michelle jumped from the sound, but Vergil stared at him with a raised eyebrow, not impressed by the lapse of control.

"How did you get back?" Dante demanded. "Mundus was controlling you."

"He did," Vergil spat, "but your interference broke through the control…" He clearly wanted to say more, but decided against it. He schooled his expression into one of apathy as he regarded Dante with a cynical eye. "Getting captured and enslaved so easily was my mistake; it won't happen again."

"I thought you were dead." Dante's tone had taken on subtle desperation and sadness the like of which Michelle had never seen. As laid back as Dante was, she had begun to believe that he never felt the burn of a sorrow so great.

"A son of Sparda does not die easily," Vergil proclaimed. The words, having a meaning that Michelle didn't understand, caused Dante to freeze before falling into a fit of laughter.

"You got that right!" Michelle was beginning to feel like a voyeur intruding on what appeared to be a brotherly moment. Dante started going on to Vergil about miscellaneous things, and Vergil – somehow having the patience of a saint – allowed his younger brother to ramble. It looked to be a very precious moment, where neither brother wanted to harm the other.

It gave Michelle the time and peace to back off of the twins and observe them more. Unsurprisingly, they were completely identical; the only differences between the two were their hairstyles and wardrobe. Vergil, Michelle noted, had much cooler expressions, however. He bore a default look of control and sternness, yet seemed to have patience hidden in his gaze if one looked hard enough. The look was very reminiscent of a teacher or mentor dealing with a troubling student.

Dante, however, had eagerness to his person like that of an excited child. While Vergil was a practice in analytical thought and control, Dante was one of offensive action and risk. Dante seemed the type to jump right into the middle of a fight, guns blasting and sword swinging. Michelle knew neither of them when they were younger, but she guessed that Vergil's absence from Dante's life had forced him to mature through those years after his disappearance at the hands of – what did Vergil say? - Ah! Mundus…

_Mundus… where have I heard that name before?_

" – attacked Michelle on her way home. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Dante finished describing the situation to Vergil as Michelle came out of her thoughts.

Vergil sighed, "It is as I told you before. I cannot imagine that a demon's interest in this slip of a girl was anything more than instinctual."

"Unless there's some higher power controlling them to do this," Dante shot in. Vergil closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them and focusing on Dante.

"You said it was one demon," Vergil pointed out, "What is one demon among many? She is not the only human to have ever been attacked by devils, and yet I do not see you so emotionally involved in their struggle." He lifted his chin slightly, and although he and Dante were the same height, he managed to tower over the younger sibling. "Are you so blinded that you cannot turn away?" Dante's shoulders stiffened, clearly offended by an insult that Michelle could not name.

"I think the demon called me something," Michelle spoke up. Two sets of ice blue turned towards her. "It might have been Latin, unless it was a language only demons speak." She looked to Vergil. "Are there?"

"Demonic languages have many forms, many dialects. If you could identify it as Latin, then the probability of it being Latin is high."

"Why is that?" Michelle was curious.

It was Dante who answered, "Demon language isn't really something humans can pronounce. It all sounds like growling and snarling to them."

"But you two can speak it?"

"Who'd want to speak it?" Dante shrugged, "but, if I cared enough to learn, I could translate it. Vergil here knows it. It's basically his expertise."

"If that's the case, why would it speak Latin?"

"There are some words that do not translate into demon language well," Vergil explained. "If you both are quite finished, I ask that you leave immediately. Rather, I demand it."

"Is that so?" Dante gripped the belt loops of his pants, preparing for a fight as Vergil slid the sword out of its scabbard. Why did it always come down to a fight? Was that three times already?

"I think it called me _'portum clavem._'" The fight forgotten, Dante and Vergil stared at Michelle intensely. Rather, Dante was intensely confused, while Vergil schooled his features into blankness. Michelle was beginning to realize that wasn't a good sign.

"Leave." Vergil's demand was even more vicious, yet his expression remained neutral.

Sensing that they had vastly overstayed their welcome, and that Vergil's patience had long since run out, Michelle grabbed the sleeve of Dante's coat, beckoning him to follow her. He resisted.

"Don't, Dante. It's all right," Michelle soothed, "I doubt Vergil is going to go anywhere. Even if he does, at least you know he's alive." Her words managed to convince him, albeit barely. It was obvious that Dante wanted to stay after realizing that his brother was alive and well after all those years of believing him lost. However, even Dante understood that things were too confusing; it was time to head back and regroup – brainstorm – that sort of thing.

Michelle peeked back as Dante started up the stairs. Vergil's eyes bore into hers with an intensity she had never seem him express. He no longer looked tired, but defensive, as if she were an enemy that he had to neutralize. At the same time, his gaze didn't feel threatening, just conflicted. It was an odd expression for someone like Vergil to wear.

Michelle couldn't get those eyes out of her mind.

* * *

**I'm glad you guys are liking it! I'm having a blast writing each chapter!**

**So, the actions and scenes in this chapter felt a little too fast for me. Unfortunately, no matter how many times I rewrote them, they continued to feel fast. The next few chapters do a much better job of setting the pace; this chapter was pretty much just setting the stage for the next chapters.  
**

**R&R!**


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